


The 73rd Hunger Games

by Jeremy55



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: 73rd Hunger Games, F/M, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2715719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeremy55/pseuds/Jeremy55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't Prim. Her name stayed within the glass bowl. Instead it was a young girl, Sara. Once Effie walked over to the glass bowl for the boys, both Katniss and Gale knew their lives would never be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

Chapter 1

 

The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. The square’s quite large, but not enough to hold District 12’s population of about eight thousand. Latecomers are directed to the adjacent streets, where they can watch the event on screens as it’s televised live by the state.

I end up around the boys my age, we exchange saddened looks and focus our attention back on the temporary stage that is set up before the Justice Building. It holds three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for the boys and one for the girls. My eyes are locked onto the glass ball with the boy’s names in it. Forty or so are mine, and I can’t help but grow tense in fear. Twenty of the ones in the girl’s ball are Katniss’ and I quickly realize our chances of actually being chosen the same year, having to watch each other die in the same arena.

Two of the three chairs fill with Madge’s father, Mayor Undersee, who’s tall, balding man, and Effie Trinket, District 12’s escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit. They murmur to each other and then look with concern at the empty seat.

Just as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read. It’s the same story every year. He tells of the history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. I felt my hate for the Capitol grow in my chest again, and as always, I wish I was in the woods, Katniss there to listen to me yell and blow off some steam. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games.

The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for uprising,  each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.

Everything in the Capitol was off, strange, but these games were made to scare us. They were to keep us under control. Show us how we're totally under their mercy. And sadly it’s true. If we even showed the slightest hint of rebellion, we’d all end up like District 13.

Every year we’re forced to treat this like a festival, something meant to be celebrated, but every year there’s nothing but wrinkled faces and two crying families. The mayor reads District 12’s two victors, and Haymitch Abernathy comes staggering onto the stage, beyond drunk, yelling unintelligible sentences. We should all come to the Reaping like this, I thought. The crowd responds with an applause, but he gets confused and gives Effie a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off.

The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughing stock of Panem, and he knows it. I find Katniss in the group of sixteen year olds, she’s trying to stifle a smile, but I can see right through her pursed lips. Inside she’s laughing, but then it fades away, because she remembers where she is.

The mayor introduces Effie Trinket, taking the cameras off of Haymitch.

Bright and bubbly as ever, Effie Trinket trots to the podium and gives her signature, “Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor.” I roll my eyes. Her pink hair is mesmerizing, and I can’t tell if it’s a wig or if it’s her natural hair, dyed the ugly color it is now.

I stare back at Katniss, Effie’s voice ringing in the background. She looks back at me, and I put on a weak smile, but she knows what I’m thinking. It could be you. I want to whisper. It could be you and then I’ll have to watch. Her face wrinkles, and I can see her concern, but my expression fades as Effie starts to step forward toward the glass balls.

“Ladies first!” she calls happily, trotting over to the ball, dipping her hand deep in the countless papers. Not Katniss. Anyone but Katniss. Please.

Effie steps back toward the microphone and opens the slip, reading it a few times before reciting the name in the microphone.

“Sara Winters!” She calls out. The name rings in the air, and after a minute a small thirteen year old girl, with red hair and bones skinnier than my fingers walks up to the stadium. She takes her place and Effie congratulates her over and over. “And now, for the boys!” she calls out again, stepping over to the glass ball and dipping her hand in again, pulling out yet another card.

I think of the same scenario every year. One of my brothers’ names coming out of that ball, them being transported to the Capitol, and spending weeks watching them starve and eventually die. They can’t hunt like Katniss and I can, and they definitely don’t know how to take care of themselves, that’s my job. If I could, I’d send an arrow straight through Effie’s throat, and take a bullet in the head after.

The card is selected, and a heavy silence falls over everyone. I put my head down, wondering what face is going to disappear from District 12 forever. I can hear her mouth against the microphone, and he small breath before she speaks the name.

Gale Hawthorne.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Author's Note!: Thank you so much for reading... I'm planning to make this a long story if it gets a lot of attention... reviews and favorites are always appreciated! If you have questions or simply want to talk to me you can message me through FanFiction or e-mail me) (JeremyAdkins55(Gmail))

 

Chapter 2

 

No.

Me?

No.

I can’t even breathe. The pressure in my chest is so great, it feels like my ribs caved in and poked wide holes in my ribs. Everyone’s eyes are on me, but I only look up at Katniss, and let my expression soften. Her hand covers her quivering mouth, and horror is plastered on every inch of her face. I had never seen Katniss cry, and now was not a good time. I was suddenly reminded of my first kill with Katniss’ bow and arrows. It was only a rabbit, but it was small and fragile like her sister, Prim. It’s black eyes were open and curious like a child’s and as it inched it’s nose up to a nearby bush to sniff the berries, I sent the projectile into it’s small chest. It flailed around for a  couple seconds before I went to retrieve it. Even as I tried to rip my arrow out it attempted to run away, feet scrambling around on the ground and shuffling the leaves around. I grabbed the arrow by the shaft and lifted the rabbit up, not sure of what to do with it. The damn thing still tried to run as fast as it can, but it didn’t go anywhere, and it took me a couple minutes before I finally pushed my knife into it’s head.

Right now, in the middle of the square, I was the rabbit, impaled by the Capitol’s crudely sharp arrow, wanting to run and flee but pinned in place.

A single tear fled from her gray eye as I wrinkled my face in disbelief, and walked toward the Justice Building. I never should have taken the tesserae, I should have just let myself starve. I couldn’t even walk in a straight line, but I make my way up to the stairs, my face grim and stone cold. I remind myself that I’m on camera and put on a fierce look. Hopefully if any of the other tributes are watching, they see me as a predator right now and not some helpless prey, like the little girl standing next to me on stage. Her head was only up to my chest, and I literally had to look down as if I was looking at the ground to purse my lips toward her. Soon enough this girl and I will be in the arena with 22 other people, and we’ll be dead, and the games will continue without us.

Effie introduces us again as tributes for the games, but I’m staring directly at Katniss, face darkened, watching the tears stream down her face as I hold back my own, not even listening to the words being said by our escort.

The mayor finishes the dreary Treaty of Treason and motions for the Sara and I to shake hands. Her fragile limb is weak and bony, I must seem like a monster to her. We turn back to the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays. Hopefully I won’t have to put an end to this poor girl, or anyone else for that matter.

But I know, deep down I will have to end a life or two in order to survive. After all, there’s 23 other people out to do the same.

 

The anthem ends, and Peacekeepers surround us and push us through the front door of the Justice Building. They guide us into different rooms and I’m pretty sure the door locked as I stepped in. I wondered if tributes had ever tried to run off into the district, hiding from the Peacekeepers. If they really wanted to, they could just stab themselves with some sharp thing inside this room. And I was curious again if anything like that had ever happened.

This room is probably the most ornate that I’ve ever seen in person. Velvet couches and deep colored curtains and a bunch of comfy looking chairs around a wooden table.

I let a tear run down my face as I realize that I will die in an arena back at home, leave my family alone and starving and leave Katniss behind to hunt the woods by herself. I wiped away the wetness from my face and sniffle a couple of times. They could come in any minute, and I was not going to let them catch me crying.

After a half hour, my mother and my three brothers come into the room. I’m instantly engulfed by the four other bodies, their heat radiating off of them. I repetitively tell them that I’m fine, and that I’ll try to win, but all they do is weep into my shirt.

“Listen you two,” I pulled Rory and Vick off of me and knelt down to them, “you have to stay strong. Ask Katniss to take you out to the woods, show you how to hunt. Rory you’re in charge of feeding the family from now on.”

“But you’ll make it home!” Vick protested, and I shook my head.

“But if I don’t…” I trailed off. This isn’t what they needed. I patted both their heads and moved over to the toddler in my mother’s arms and planted a kiss on top of his small head. My mother stood, tears running down her face as she looked at me.

Her face is weathered, wrinkled and wet from the tears. I bring her into a hug, Posy still in her arms. “I’ll be okay,” I say, “but make sure they are too. Katniss will bring you game while I’m gone.” I could feel her weep into my shirt, and I let a small tear flood over my eye. I wiped it away, remembering the cameras that would follow this short amount of time I have left with my family.

I gave her a list of things to do, people she could trade with down at the Hob, and told her to stay strong. I lectured my brothers for school as well, reminded them to help out mom with the house.

The Peacekeeper came in too soon, and I was allowed one final hug from each of my family members and an ‘i love you’ before he snatched them away from me. I stood where they left me, depression instantly falling over me. I moved quickly over to the table and pounded my fist as hard as I could three times on the hard surface. The wood banged through the tiny room, and I forced myself to stay calm.

The door opened again, and I whirled around, only to find Katniss jumping into me, arms flailing around my neck, crying into my shoulder as I squeezed her. There was never any sort of relationship between Katniss and I, and I’m glad for it now. When I pulled away she wiped away the tears and began apologizing over and over again.

“I’m so sorry. I should have nev-”

“No,” she interrupted, “you entered your name more times to save your family, and now it’s time to save yourself.”

For the first time in the past hour, I imagined myself winning the games, coming home, finally being rich and being able to support my family completely. Maybe the odds were somewhat in my favor. “Katniss I’m not going to win.” I say, but she shakes her head.

“You can shoot, and hunt, and you're a whiz with snares,” she ran her fingers through her loose strands of hair, “You can win. You could come home.” I shook my head in denial. I could shoot, not as accurate as Katniss, but I was practically silent when I walked around, and snares could help. Maybe I could pick off a couple of people with arrows and trap others in a spring snare. Maybe I would come home.

I wished for the hundredth time that Katniss would have ran off with me in the woods, never to return to district 12 ever again. Then I noticed how close we were, and how her pink lips parted. I grabbed her cheeks between my hands and pressed my lips against hers. She didn’t pull away like I expected her to, she responded, kissing me back and curling her fingers against my broad chest. I was the one to pull away.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, her face still less than an inch from mine.

“Don’t.” she warned, giving me one more slow, long kiss before wrapping her arms around my torso, diving into my chest. I squeezed her tight, perhaps for the final time. Then the Peacekeeper walked into the room forced her out. She begged for a couple more minutes, our hands gripping each other’s tightly, not wanting to let go.

“Katniss! Don’t let them starve!” I yelled, and then our hands separated, and the door slammed in my face.

  
  


***

 

Never before had I ever even seen the interior of a car before. The leather seats were luxurious, but honestly, I prefered to be on my feet. We pass reporters and cameras until we board the train, and take one look at my home before the door shuts and Effie pushes me further into the train. Sara looked horribly depressed and the redness of her face proved that she had spent a considerable amount of time balling her eyes out. But I couldn’t blame her.

The train moved the minute the doors shut behind us. Effie attempts to show me to my room, but I walk right past her and look out into the green woods through the large window. Green was Katniss’ favorite color, and every tree reminded me of our long journeys through the forest. I saw a mockingjay fly next to our train for a few seconds before retreating back to the trees.

Those birds were pure joy and sadness all at the same time. Katniss remembers them because of her father. She remembers him singing into the tree tops and hearing the same tune repeated back over and over again, and with those memories she’s haunted. The first time she showed me them, I turned away from the idea of singing to birds, and now I wished I had spent more time with her and the birds.

I watch the woods, engulfed by the brown and green trees, ignoring Effie and Sara, letting them continue the tour without me. Eventually, I leave the window stumble into a room full of foods and drinks that could feed my family for months. I couldn’t even name most of the dishes on the long table, let alone the drinks of various colors and smells. I sat down, grabbed a plate and began filling the silverware with small portions of everything, filling my cup with some hot drink that Effie called a cappuccino and another with ice water.

I didn’t stuff myself too fast, but I did manage to finish off my entire plate while Effie and Sara talked about the Capitol. Their conversation angered me. How “fabulous” everything was for them. The countless parties and celebrations, the excitement for a game where children killed each other. Sick.

“So Gale, are you excited?” Effie questioned, taking a sip out of her mug and crossing her legs in her short skirt.

“Am I excited?” I repeated, narrowing my eyes at her, “excited to kill people? No.” I answered, pushing my chair out from the table and letting it tip over, striding angrily to the back of the train. I heard Effie call for me, telling me to pick up my chair, but I ignored her, angrily stomping into an entirely different room and throwing myself on the circular shaped seat in front of the back window.

I watched the train tracks disappear behind the train, glancing off into the woods as well. I couldn’t rant anymore. Katniss wasn’t here to listen, and if the Capitol ever found out my opinion they would probably kill me minutes into the games. I had to win, not for my family but for Katniss. She had kissed me, or at least kissed me back. And I couldn’t help but wonder if we would ever start something if I made it back home from the games. But in order to do that, I would have to avoid death, and that’s going to be impossible.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!!!! I'm liking FanFiction a little more than ArchiveofOurOwn... I've posted 5 chapters so far on FanFiction, so if you want to read a little more you should check it out... I'll try to remember to post the other chapters but sometimes I just forget! Sorry! I hope you enjoy, be sure to follow/like for more!

Chapter 3

 

Haymitch sat in front of my chair, Sara next to me and Effie next to Haymitch. He was hungover, and pouring a decent amount of alcohol into a cup of hot chocolate. Effie had just finished lecturing me about my attitude, and how I should try to preserve this train, because everything was expensive and luxurious. I wanted to tell her that I could care less, and flip the table over in front of her, but I held my temper and imagined her shocked face and shriek if I started to trash anything else. Tipping over chairs and leaving them on the ground is definitely not on Effie's list of manners. Honestly, I think she needed to get her fancy outfits and makeup torn off for a couple of months and thrown into District 12, starving with the rest of us. Back home, clothes, looks and perfect manners meant nothing because everybody was dying anyway.

“Why are you smiling?” Haymitch asked crudely, anger in his voice.

I shrugged, “I was just imagining what Effie would do if I decided to trash this... expensive furniture.” I mocked her Capitol accent, hissing my the s and sounding extra excited.

“Young man!” Effie scolded, I ignored her and watched Haymitch’s growing smirk. I had to say, my impression of her was dead on. Sara giggled next to me, her laugh sounded like Prim's. “How dare you three!” She yelled at all of us now, and our stifled smiles became laughs at her. “This,” she waved her arms around her, signaling the train and everything in it, “is a pleasure!” We stopped our laughs, and I gave Sara a small wink and a smirk before I speared scrambled eggs onto my fork and shoved eggs into my mouth.

We all kept our heads down, like a dog who had gotten caught tearing up old newspapers, too ashamed to even glance at Effie. Her arms fell into her lap as she let out a frustrated sigh. I wondered if the tributes before us ever gave her this much trouble, and I reminded myself to ask Haymitch about it later.

“So,” Haymitch spoke, swallowing his drink, “sponsors.” he said. I dreaded this. I didn’t want to smile, try to make friends or have to dress up for the pleasing of the Capitol. I wanted to train and get this over with, whether I died or not. “They're gonna dress you up, and during the parade you’re going to smile,” he stared directly at me, sternly, “and wave, and try to seem as appealing as possible.”

I rolled my eyes and scratched my cheeks, pulling at the whiskers that grew on my hollow cheeks.

"You'll have more of a chance of surviving if you gets gifts from sponsors in the middle of the Games. A little food, a blanket, or hell- even a single match could save your ass in there."

"What about all the supplies at the cornucopia?" I blurted out. His lips pressed together tightly. There was always weapons, backpacks, food, water, matches and everything else imaginable. The careers usually go for the weapons first, picking off other tributes and worrying about food later.

"Every year half the tributes die trying to get in there. Unless you're faster than the rest of them, you should just worry about not getting stabbed in the back." I didn't like his answer, because I needed a knife, rope, a bow and a sheath of arrows. I could run fast, but not through the trees or rough terrain. My feet always get caught on stumps and roots protruding from the soil when I try to run in the forest.

"But if I can get there earlier-"

"You'll get a spear in the head before you turn to run away!" He interrupted, slamming the butt of his fork against the table surface. "If you can survive without supplies, don't get yourself killed trying to get things you can live without." I nodded, realizing that he was right. The careers have spent their entire life training for this moment, and they can probably run a lot faster than I can. But if I got to a bow in time, I could pick off one person and be off before anyone else can come after me. Then again, there's no guarantee that there will be a bow in the stash.

Hopefully, I had some hidden talent with throwing knives, or spears or anything with range.

 

I spent the remainder of the day in the back of the train, watching the tracks zoom out from under me, disappearing with the land. The forest thinned out and eventually turned into flat plains, and then they slowly began to roll into small hills. I was thankful for our landscape in District 12, the trees made easy cover for hunting. I couldn’t imagine trying to bag game in a place where the animals can see you coming from a mile away. The first week Katniss and I met, we exchanged awkward "hello"s and "hey"s, but as we started to talk to each other, she began sharing her father's knowledge with me. She showed me the food trees to climb, the medicinal and edible herbs that grew everywhere, and the different shapes and sizes of the animal tracks left by the game, I really got to understand the forest and find food where there seemed to be none. Eventually, she trusted me with one of her precious bows and a quiver full of sharp arrows. There was nothing that I could ever cherish more than the days we spend hunting.

One year, after the snow turned into slush, we ran into strange tracks in the mud while checking the snares. Katniss had immediately pointed them out to be turkey, and followed the trial. She showed me how they walked, how to tell if they had been running or walking, and how big they were all by the small tracks in the mud. After an hour of walking, we spotted three or four of the birds pecking at the ground.

Always the head for turkeys, the told me, they'll fly away if you try to hit the heart. We both slid out an arrow, and took aim at the clueless game. The cold never worked well with archery, since all you have is stiff muscles and frozen fingers to pull back the heavy draw of the weapon. To say the least, my aim wasn't perfect that day. My arrow flew into the thin neck of a medium sized turkey, and Katniss hit another bird right through the eye. The bird I shot at attempted to take flight, but it fell to the ground and flopped like a fish out of water for a couple seconds.

We took one turkey to the Hob and traded it, and the other back to our families. She had used the feathers to make us each a couple more arrows.

 

I took a shower and went to bed the minute the sun went down. The sheets had been freshly made, and my dirty clothes taken somewhere else. After kicking off my pants and shirt, I layed under the blankets, face smashed against the fluffed white pillow.

 

When the sun rose, it sent gray streaks of light through the thick, rounded windows, one of them piercing my closed eye and pulling me from my slumber. The train was silent and I wasn’t sure if the food would be out yet, so I stayed looking up at the ceiling for a good hour, trying my hardest to avoid the bright lights. By that time, I hear Effie pour a cup of coffee and speak to one of the Peacekeepers on the train.

I jumped out of my bed, threw on a pair of silky, brown and blue pajama pants and left the matching shirt on the unmade bed. I realized I had made a mistake by not putting on a shirt when Effie let out a gasp as I walked into the room.

“What is the matter with you?” she asked, practically terrorized, “You’re nearly naked!” I frowned at her.

“I have pants on.” I said, turning away from her. Weird that she can watch people kill each other but be completely shocked by seeing me shirtless. I walked over to the impressive amount of breakfast food on the table. Pastries, eggs, bacon, sausage, grapes and other fruits, hot chocolate and coffee. I only had coffee one time, my father had given me a sip of the steaming liquid from his metal cup when I was younger. The taste was savory, but more bitter than the tree bark I ate when I was alone in the woods.

“Gale,” She said calmly, I ignored her, got myself a cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar to the large, steaming mug, “please dress yourself.”

“No, thanks.” I muttered, sipping the beverage, instantly woken by its warmth.

Effie shook her head, and her wig seemed to bounce and move with her. “You need manners.” she whispered into her book. My fist clenched in response until the point of my knuckles turning white.

“At least I don’t show up to the Reaping drunk.” I spat, good thing Haymitch wasn’t here, I'd probably pay for that one later. Then, I retreated to the back end of the train, sipping my coffee and inspecting the new landscape of the sharp hills that came to a peak. There wasn’t anymore tall grass, but short shrubs and weeds that covered the ground. We were definitely getting close to the Capitol. We learned about the landscape and terrain of the place once called the “Rockies”, and how the Capitol was surrounded by its sharp, snow covered mountains.

Two hours pass, and behind me my ears pick up the almost silent sound of the door opening and shutting, and small footsteps growing towards me. I’m surprised to see Haymitch, not as drunk or hungover as the past couple of days, take a seat on the other end of the round couch.

"Morning." He moans, sounding almost dreadful to see me.

"Hey." I said, pursing my lips into a weak smile.

“So," he mutters, “I hear you’re pretty in the woods?" he takes out a flask from his leather jacket and sips from it, sighing as he takes the bottle from his lips.

“Yeah I guess.” I mutter under my breath.

“And you can shoot.” he claimed. I nodded. “How is your aim?” he asked. How did he know this? Katniss and I trade with people, but Haymitch never comes out of his house unless the Hunger Games start, or he runs out of liquor. There's no was he could know about Katniss and I. I imagine him running to the Capitol and ratting us out, but I dismiss the idea after I realize that he has no reason to see us whipped, or shot for that matter.

“I’m okay. I mean not as good as Katniss.” He looks puzzled, and I consider telling him about how I spend my days outside the district fences. I decide that he can probably be trusted, so I tell him about how Katniss and I hunt in the woods, and she taught me how to shoot her bow and arrows, and how I trap rabbits with cleverly placed snares.

“Well your fellow tribute says you barely miss.”

“What?” I’ve never even seen Sara before, let alone ever traded game with her directly. I try to think back to all the families that I’ve traded with, and not a single memory contained her in it. “How does she know all of this?” Most of the district knows that Katniss and I hunt, but none of them have ever really admired us on our shots.

“She says her father trades at the Hob?” He asked, nothing rang a bell. “Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you get your hands on a bow.” he was pointing the lid of his flash at me now.

"But you sai-"

"I know!" He nearly shouted, closing his eyes in frustration, "but if you spend that much time hunting I think you could get away with at least a bow. Can you make arrows?"

Yes, but I don't have a lot of experience with them. "Katniss usually makes them," I state, shrugging, "but I think I could if I tried."

"Good. So, when the games start, try to get a bow. If you can't get the arrows easily just make your own." He took a long gulp of his flask, and I could hear the liquid gulp in his throat. Didn't his throat burn from all the drinking?

“What if they don’t have one there?” I protested, seeking more advice.

Haymitch paused, pushed his hair out of his face and took another sip from the flask before speaking again, “You’re gonna have to show the gamemakers how good you are with one first. Then they’ll put one in to… keep the games interesting.“ I knew from previous games that I would have to spend a whole day of training getting used to the bows they used in the arena. None of the few bows I’ve ever seen are wood, they’re always some strange metal with the limbs varying shape and size.

“I’’ll try.” I say, looking back out the window.

“Don’t forget about the hand to hand combat,” he said, "that will save your life too." I nodded and he got out of his seat, walking away. “Oh by the way!” he called back, I turned to face him, “I think your manners are absolutely fabulous.”  He copied Effie’s accent like I had and smirked as he walked away, the door closed behind him and I realized for the first time in my life that District 12’s one existing victor was more than a crazy drunk.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you guys! Please comment/like and subscribe to the story! Thanks!!!!

 

 

Chapter 4

 

I spent the next day  speaking to Haymitch about plans for the games. He said my best strategy to gain sponsors was to act like a career, since I had enough muscle and I was the size of them anyway. Now all I had to do was act like I knew exactly what I was doing, and they would try to avoid me. He told me that if I wanted to score good, I should save my best skills for last. My snares.

I’ve already thought out traps and spring snares that can be adjusted to react to a human footstep, and dangle someone fivChapter 3

 

Haymitch sat in front of my chair, Sara next to me and Effie next to Haymitch. He was hungover, and pouring a decent amount of alcohol into a cup of hot chocolate. Effie had just finished lecturing me about my attitude, and how I should try to preserve this train, because everything was expensive and luxurious. I wanted to tell her that I could care less, and flip the table over in front of her, but I held my temper and imagined her shocked face and shriek if I started to trash anything else. Tipping over chairs and leaving them on the ground is definitely not on Effie's list of manners. Honestly, I think she needed to get her fancy outfits and makeup torn off for a couple of months and thrown into District 12, starving with the rest of us. Back home, clothes, looks and perfect manners meant nothing because everybody was dying anyway.

“Why are you smiling?” Haymitch asked crudely, anger in his voice.

I shrugged, “I was just imagining what Effie would do if I decided to trash this... expensive furniture.” I mocked her Capitol accent, hissing my the s and sounding extra excited.

“Young man!” Effie scolded, I ignored her and watched Haymitch’s growing smirk. I had to say, my impression of her was dead on. Sara giggled next to me, her laugh sounded like Prim's. “How dare you three!” She yelled at all of us now, and our stifled smiles became laughs at her. “This,” she waved her arms around her, signaling the train and everything in it, “is a pleasure!” We stopped our laughs, and I gave Sara a small wink and a smirk before I speared scrambled eggs onto my fork and shoved eggs into my mouth.

We all kept our heads down, like a dog who had gotten caught tearing up old newspapers, too ashamed to even glance at Effie. Her arms fell into her lap as she let out a frustrated sigh. I wondered if the tributes before us ever gave her this much trouble, and I reminded myself to ask Haymitch about it later.

“So,” Haymitch spoke, swallowing his drink, “sponsors.” he said. I dreaded this. I didn’t want to smile, try to make friends or have to dress up for the pleasing of the Capitol. I wanted to train and get this over with, whether I died or not. “They're gonna dress you up, and during the parade you’re going to smile,” he stared directly at me, sternly, “and wave, and try to seem as appealing as possible.”

I rolled my eyes and scratched my cheeks, pulling at the whiskers that grew on my hollow cheeks.

"You'll have more of a chance of surviving if you gets gifts from sponsors in the middle of the Games. A little food, a blanket, or hell- even a single match could save your ass in there."

"What about all the supplies at the cornucopia?" I blurted out. His lips pressed together tightly. There was always weapons, backpacks, food, water, matches and everything else imaginable. The careers usually go for the weapons first, picking off other tributes and worrying about food later.

"Every year half the tributes die trying to get in there. Unless you're faster than the rest of them, you should just worry about not getting stabbed in the back." I didn't like his answer, because I needed a knife, rope, a bow and a sheath of arrows. I could run fast, but not through the trees or rough terrain. My feet always get caught on stumps and roots protruding from the soil when I try to run in the forest.

"But if I can get there earlier-"

"You'll get a spear in the head before you turn to run away!" He interrupted, slamming the butt of his fork against the table surface. "If you can survive without supplies, don't get yourself killed trying to get things you can live without." I nodded, realizing that he was right. The careers have spent their entire life training for this moment, and they can probably run a lot faster than I can. But if I got to a bow in time, I could pick off one person and be off before anyone else can come after me. Then again, there's no guarantee that there will be a bow in the stash.

Hopefully, I had some hidden talent with throwing knives, or spears or anything with range.

 

I spent the remainder of the day in the back of the train, watching the tracks zoom out from under me, disappearing with the land. The forest thinned out and eventually turned into flat plains, and then they slowly began to roll into small hills. I was thankful for our landscape in District 12, the trees made easy cover for hunting. I couldn’t imagine trying to bag game in a place where the animals can see you coming from a mile away. The first week Katniss and I met, we exchanged awkward "hello"s and "hey"s, but as we started to talk to each other, she began sharing her father's knowledge with me. She showed me the food trees to climb, the medicinal and edible herbs that grew everywhere, and the different shapes and sizes of the animal tracks left by the game, I really got to understand the forest and find food where there seemed to be none. Eventually, she trusted me with one of her precious bows and a quiver full of sharp arrows. There was nothing that I could ever cherish more than the days we spend hunting.

One year, after the snow turned into slush, we ran into strange tracks in the mud while checking the snares. Katniss had immediately pointed them out to be turkey, and followed the trial. She showed me how they walked, how to tell if they had been running or walking, and how big they were all by the small tracks in the mud. After an hour of walking, we spotted three or four of the birds pecking at the ground.

Always the head for turkeys, the told me, they'll fly away if you try to hit the heart. We both slid out an arrow, and took aim at the clueless game. The cold never worked well with archery, since all you have is stiff muscles and frozen fingers to pull back the heavy draw of the weapon. To say the least, my aim wasn't perfect that day. My arrow flew into the thin neck of a medium sized turkey, and Katniss hit another bird right through the eye. The bird I shot at attempted to take flight, but it fell to the ground and flopped like a fish out of water for a couple seconds.

We took one turkey to the Hob and traded it, and the other back to our families. She had used the feathers to make us each a couple more arrows.

 

I took a shower and went to bed the minute the sun went down. The sheets had been freshly made, and my dirty clothes taken somewhere else. After kicking off my pants and shirt, I layed under the blankets, face smashed against the fluffed white pillow.

 

When the sun rose, it sent gray streaks of light through the thick, rounded windows, one of them piercing my closed eye and pulling me from my slumber. The train was silent and I wasn’t sure if the food would be out yet, so I stayed looking up at the ceiling for a good hour, trying my hardest to avoid the bright lights. By that time, I hear Effie pour a cup of coffee and speak to one of the Peacekeepers on the train.

I jumped out of my bed, threw on a pair of silky, brown and blue pajama pants and left the matching shirt on the unmade bed. I realized I had made a mistake by not putting on a shirt when Effie let out a gasp as I walked into the room.

“What is the matter with you?” she asked, practically terrorized, “You’re nearly naked!” I frowned at her.

“I have pants on.” I said, turning away from her. Weird that she can watch people kill each other but be completely shocked by seeing me shirtless. I walked over to the impressive amount of breakfast food on the table. Pastries, eggs, bacon, sausage, grapes and other fruits, hot chocolate and coffee. I only had coffee one time, my father had given me a sip of the steaming liquid from his metal cup when I was younger. The taste was savory, but more bitter than the tree bark I ate when I was alone in the woods.

“Gale,” She said calmly, I ignored her, got myself a cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar to the large, steaming mug, “please dress yourself.”

“No, thanks.” I muttered, sipping the beverage, instantly woken by its warmth.

Effie shook her head, and her wig seemed to bounce and move with her. “You need manners.” she whispered into her book. My fist clenched in response until the point of my knuckles turning white.

“At least I don’t show up to the Reaping drunk.” I spat, good thing Haymitch wasn’t here, I'd probably pay for that one later. Then, I retreated to the back end of the train, sipping my coffee and inspecting the new landscape of the sharp hills that came to a peak. There wasn’t anymore tall grass, but short shrubs and weeds that covered the ground. We were definitely getting close to the Capitol. We learned about the landscape and terrain of the place once called the “Rockies”, and how the Capitol was surrounded by its sharp, snow covered mountains.

Two hours pass, and behind me my ears pick up the almost silent sound of the door opening and shutting, and small footsteps growing towards me. I’m surprised to see Haymitch, not as drunk or hungover as the past couple of days, take a seat on the other end of the round couch.

"Morning." He moans, sounding almost dreadful to see me.

"Hey." I said, pursing my lips into a weak smile.

“So," he mutters, “I hear you’re pretty in the woods?" he takes out a flask from his leather jacket and sips from it, sighing as he takes the bottle from his lips.

“Yeah I guess.” I mutter under my breath.

“And you can shoot.” he claimed. I nodded. “How is your aim?” he asked. How did he know this? Katniss and I trade with people, but Haymitch never comes out of his house unless the Hunger Games start, or he runs out of liquor. There's no was he could know about Katniss and I. I imagine him running to the Capitol and ratting us out, but I dismiss the idea after I realize that he has no reason to see us whipped, or shot for that matter.

“I’m okay. I mean not as good as Katniss.” He looks puzzled, and I consider telling him about how I spend my days outside the district fences. I decide that he can probably be trusted, so I tell him about how Katniss and I hunt in the woods, and she taught me how to shoot her bow and arrows, and how I trap rabbits with cleverly placed snares.

“Well your fellow tribute says you barely miss.”

“What?” I’ve never even seen Sara before, let alone ever traded game with her directly. I try to think back to all the families that I’ve traded with, and not a single memory contained her in it. “How does she know all of this?” Most of the district knows that Katniss and I hunt, but none of them have ever really admired us on our shots.

“She says her father trades at the Hob?” He asked, nothing rang a bell. “Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you get your hands on a bow.” he was pointing the lid of his flash at me now.

"But you sai-"

"I know!" He nearly shouted, closing his eyes in frustration, "but if you spend that much time hunting I think you could get away with at least a bow. Can you make arrows?"

Yes, but I don't have a lot of experience with them. "Katniss usually makes them," I state, shrugging, "but I think I could if I tried."

"Good. So, when the games start, try to get a bow. If you can't get the arrows easily just make your own." He took a long gulp of his flask, and I could hear the liquid gulp in his throat. Didn't his throat burn from all the drinking?

“What if they don’t have one there?” I protested, seeking more advice.

Haymitch paused, pushed his hair out of his face and took another sip from the flask before speaking again, “You’re gonna have to show the gamemakers how good you are with one first. Then they’ll put one in to… keep the games interesting.“ I knew from previous games that I would have to spend a whole day of training getting used to the bows they used in the arena. None of the few bows I’ve ever seen are wood, they’re always some strange metal with the limbs varying shape and size.

“I’’ll try.” I say, looking back out the window.

“Don’t forget about the hand to hand combat,” he said, "that will save your life too." I nodded and he got out of his seat, walking away. “Oh by the way!” he called back, I turned to face him, “I think your manners are absolutely fabulous.”  He copied Effie’s accent like I had and smirked as he walked away, the door closed behind him and I realized for the first time in my life that District 12’s one existing victor was more than a crazy drunk.

e feet off the ground. I wasn’t sure of the terrain I would be in, so I asked about strategies for finding water in dry areas and how to stay dry in wet ones. I found out that plastic bags collect water if they’re put over a plant, and that if I did it right, I could rig a snare to fire an arrow from a makeshift bow, as for keeping dry... Ham itch said to "suck it up."

I don’t see much of Sara, and when I do she’s depressed and not eating much, avoiding any tips from Haymitch.Not that it matters anyway. I feel bad knowing that 23 of us are going to die, and my chances of survival are greater than her's are. She’s bony, small and hasn’t had any experience in the wild like I have. When I asked her about her skills, she said hiding was going to be her main strategy. I couldn’t help but pity her.

However, Effie is constantly on my back about how I should actually wear a shirt when there people around, and how I should put a napkin on my lap before I eat, and not rest my forearm on the side of the table.If I die here, it would be because Effie talked my ear off.

“Sorry,” I said, “we don’t have time to learn table manners because we’re not at the table much.” I give Effie a scowl and keep my eyes locked on her as I use my fingers to eat a sliver of chicken. She purses her lips, wipes her mouth with her napkin and excuses herself from the table, flailing her arms at her sides as she walked away. I looked at Haymitch, who was giving me a look of pure anger.

“What?” I mutter at him, “It’s not like manners are going to save my life in there. She doesn’t get it.” My eyes fall from him and I finish my lunch in silence.

Back in my room, I start doing any exercising I can do without the training center. Even though I’m in excellent shape, I need to gain as much muscle as I can before the games actually start. I do sit-ups and pushups and crunches until my muscles cry out for me to stop. I take a shower and wash the smell of sweat off of myself, dressing when I’m done, even sliding into a shirt for Effie.

As much as I hate the Capitol, the sight of it from the dam made me stop and stare. The brilliant water flowed from the sparkling lake down the waterfall and into the raging river. Beyond the city filled with strangely shaped buildings, there was the mountains, sure enough covered in snow, a natural barrier between the districts and the Capitol. Even from the miles and miles separating me from the mountains, I could tell there was a thick, evergreen forest growing on the rocky surface. The lake glistened and sparkled as we rode over the water, the water was clear and and flat like glass.

We were lead into a tunnel, where the train slowed to a stop, and countless people greeted us at the station. I’ve never seen so many different colors of hair. Gold, silver, green, blue, pink, orange, and even some neon color that made my head hurt. Effie’s makeup was nothing compared to the women, and men, in the Capitol. In fact, Effie’s makeup looked far less like a five year old’s finger painting smeared onto a human canvas. I saw a slim man with a bony face, green hair and brown tattoos running down his body, he literally looked identical to the oak saplings in the forest of District 12.

Sara and I stared out the window, looking into the cameras of the Capitol citizens in complete bewilderment.

 

***

 

I stand alone in the small room, naked, excluding the boxers I snuck from the cupboard after my prep team left. Whoever my stylist is, they have no right to see me completely clothe less. My hair was perfectly parted, and I can't help but run my coarse fingers through the side of my head, even my skin has a warmer glow to it. They decided to leave my facial hair for some odd reason, I expected them to even rid me of the hair that grew on my legs and arms. They did, however, feel the need to touch up my eyebrows. Apparently, even the slightest hair between your eyebrows is frowned upon in the Capitol, and I spent ten minutes getting my eyebrows plucked by a woman with maroon hair and pure black makeup.

Fifteen minutes passed by before my stylist walked in. The man was paper white, with his hair a mix of gray and black, but his skin wasn’t wrinkled the slightest, so he couldn't be as old as his hair made him look. Great, I thought, I get the old man to have a look at me. He walked around me multiple times, his painted nails tapping against lips as he inspected me. I stood still, giving my signature darkened expression whenever he was in my view. He stopped for a minute, looked at my face for literally a minute before speaking to me.

“You,” he spoke drawn out, like he was trying to say each word as long as he could, “I can work with.”

That’s good I guess.

“Strong.” He commented, walking to my side and viewing me from profile, “not many from your district are as… toned.” Yup, creepy old guy. “Fortunately for you, we won’t have to use as much makeup on you. You’re decent looking.”

Decent? At least my features matched my age!

“So what are we doing for the parade?” I ask, not wanting to hear anymore of his comments. He hadn't even told me his name, so I didn't bother to tell him mine. He brought me a robe, and I threw it on quickly. Not having a shirt was one thing, but being in underwear and being forced to have people look at you is completely different.

“Well you’re District 12!” he said happily, “Why don’t we do coal?”

Every year. Coal. Coal. And some more coal. Our District is bad enough, and nobody pays attention to us because our costumes are horrible. But he was serious, so I just shrugged and he got started by pulling out my costume.

 

A few hours later, Sara and I are dressed in matching outfits, completely black sleeveless shirts and tight leather pants that hugged every inch of your lower body, our faces and clothing were covered in some weird artificial glowing coal dust. It’s cool, I guess, but only up close. The audience will never be able to see the glow from the seats. I have a pickaxe attached to my belt and a miner’s hat on my head, Sara has the same. Every year its the same thing, only we’re dressed a little more than the previous tributes from 12. I remember one girl was almost completely naked with coal dust covering her up.

Our stylists looked us over one last time before giving us a thumbs up and walking away, leaving us in our chariot. They didn't even seem to care at all. The horses were coated with the same glowing powder as us, so maybe the audiance would notice.

“What do you think of this?” Sara stood on her tiptoes to talk to me. She had makeup smeared on her face, black and a little bit of white were around her eyes.

“I think we look absolutely stupid.” I had to almost yell for her to hear me, the roar of the crowd was so loud that it blocked my own thoughts out.

“I agree!” she yelled back up to me. Before I knew it the anthem was playing and people were moving out onto the runway. Now’s my biggest chance to make an influence and I’m in some stupid costume.

We enter the city, and everyone’s head is turned toward the districts in front of us. I feel completely ignored, completely pushed away, and I wonder if Katniss is even looking at me right now. This is probably the best she'd ever see me from here on out. We get a weak applause, about ten roses thrown at us and my smile and waving isn’t doing enough. A hundred years in front of us, districts one and two are getting so many cheers it pulls me out of focus and wonder how eg were dressed. I couldn't see them from where I was, but I guess the people though it was good.

Halfway down the street and we’re the weakest ones out here. Even when we’re supposed to be dazzling, District 12 comes up shorter than everyone else. Suddenly I notice the coals start to heat up, and the embers glow even brighter than before. It’s not trails of fire following us or anything, but it raises some interest in the crowd and I can actually see people turning their heads at us.

I suddenly have an idea and take the pickaxe from my belt, and thrust it into the air as if I were stabbing at a bird. The crowd roars a little louder, excited by my enthusiasm. Once Sara does the same, we get more attention for a short amount of time. We circle back around and disappear into the training center just as I’m enjoying myself. The coals turned dark and faded into the print coal dust once again.

The minute the huge doors close behind our chariot, our prep teams come over to us, help us down and congratulate us and compliment us. I can’t help but see all of these as lies, nothing more than words used to boost our confidence. We weren't that great.

Haymitch and Effie guide us up the tower, all the way up to the 12th floor, where I’m greeted with a penthouse ten times as fancy as the train.

The entire place is gorgeous. One entire wall was nothing but glass and a couple of support beams between the . A mahogany table with matching leather chairs, a couch that stretches around most the living room, a kitchen, clean and neat, and even the hardwood floors and carpet dazzled me as I entered.

“This is where you’ll be staying.” Effie says excitedly. For a moment I forget that the only reason I’m here is because I’ll be fighting for my life and enjoy my temporary and possibly final home. The walls were cream like soft skin, and the whole place was warm and welcoming.

I walked to my room, ignoring Effie as she complained about the arrangement of the room being different from last year. A king sized, green and brown bed was placed in the middle of the room, pushed against the wall. The walls were cream like the rest of them, but the carpet was long and warm unlike the hardwood floor outside my door. The bathroom was probably the same size as our kitchen and living room back at home, the shiny white tile was freshly polished, and the mirrors cleaner than I’ve ever seen before . I could probably fit five people in the shower before anybody got too cramped. The buttons on the wall dispensed different things, water, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, face wash, and lotion all had their own “instant access” buttons on the shower’s wall. I wish my family could experience this, just once. My wardrobe is filled with normal clothes. Brown and blue jeans and shirts that vary colors. I even see a suit hanging in the walk in closet! The vest and slick silk pants were black with a red trimming near the collar and sleeve ends, a matching red tie was already knotted and tied around the hanger that held the formal attire. I made a mental note to wear that before I’m sent to my death.

The shower I take is the best thing thats ever happened to me. I never knew hot water could be accessed so easily, and the conditioner in my rough hair instantly smoothed it. The coal dust was a little hard to work out, but eventually, my skin was light and clean again.

After getting dressed and grabbing a quick bite to eat I head to bed, images of the Capitol and its people, and the lights and our penthouse racing through my head. I suddenly thought of Katniss, and wonder what she’s thinking of me right now. I imagined her rolling her eyes as I rode out of the training center, coal dust all over my body and embers glowing on my skin.

One year of the games, when two kids our age went into the games, she joked and laughed about how bland and boring their costumes were. All the other districts were doing pretty good that year, but our district stylists decided to go with the same idea they did every year.

‘I think I’d rather be naked.’ she whispered as we stood in the town square, watching the parade on the big screen.

I smirked and forced myself not to laugh, ‘I don’t know about that one, Catnip.’ I said, horrified by the idea of me being naked in front of thousands, my stylist was enough.

I roll over, crossing my arms, letting out a sigh as I try to get the girl out of my head. She’s been nothing more than a hunting partner since the day we met, and since the kiss, I find myself more torn up over her than I ever have been before, and I fall asleep with the feeling of her lips pressed against mine.

  
  


She was directly in front of me, inches from my reach. Her perplexing braid started over one ear and dropped over the opposite shoulder, she wasn’t wearing any visible makeup, but her olive skin was clear and clean and her teeth perfectly white as she smiled warmly.

“Katniss?” I whispered, narrowing my eyebrows and reaching out to touch her face. Her soft cheek fit perfectly in my calloused palm, and her head tilted to the side to lean into my touch. “I’m-”

“Shh.” she put her finger up to my lips and pushed me back with one hand on my chest. I stepped back, my shoulders hit the bark of the tree roughly, and my boots  met the trunk with a thud. She was centimeters from my face now, her swooped nose barely touching mine, her fingers moved over my chest, up my neck and over my shoulders. My heart raced, she was growing closer, a hint of lust in her eye. The gray in her eyes were locked on me as she leaned against me. I used the tree as support and closed my eyes deeply as her lips made contact with me again, once on the lips, and repetitively on the cheek and neck.This felt so wrong, but it's what I've wanted for years, so I let myself enjoy it.

“Katniss.” I whispered tensely. It couldn’t be real, the trees were too green, they almost seemed artificial.

“Don’t ruin it, Gale.” she warned, kissing my lips again. The warmth from her body radiated so much that I felt like I was on the sun. The birds flew around us, singing great songs in high pitched tones. I kept my hands on her waist as she pulled away slowly, her eyes held my gaze as she slowly separated from me, turning one shoulder.

There was a snapping of a branch to my left, and we both whipped around to the source. The man appeared out of nowhere, clutching something in his hand, sprinting full speed at the both of us. I didn’t have time to react before he threw the deadly sharp knife clutched in his hand, and I watched the blade enter Katniss’ body where her heart would be. She stood for a moment, looking at the blade, her brown leather jacket soaking crimson from her wound. Her gaze found me again, this time with pain and confusion and with one arm she reached out and whispered something before her body fell limp onto the ground.

“No!” I screamed, but as my feet bolted toward my best friend I felt the blade of the second knife enter the side of my throat, just above the shoulder. Choking and gurgling noises came from the back of throat as put my fingers to the gaping hole. I fell next to her, clutching the cold metal stained with my own blood. Her eyes were cold and lifeless, even more gray than before, the lips I had just kissed hung open wide, no breath escaping her open mouth. The soft dirt of the woods collected my blood, and I had just enough life in me to feel the man rip the knife from my neck as the world faded into darkness.

 

Something hit my back hard, the wind blew out of my lungs like men in a mine explosion. I managed to get up, but my feet were tangled in something and I fell again. The moonlight spread on one spot on the floor, but it was still too dark to see where I was. My arm bumped into something, and it tipped over, a loud crash and clattering followed. Air managed to enter my lungs, and I suddenly remembered where I was. The Capitol.

My bed sheets were tangled around my legs, I was on the ground but the ends were still tucked in the corners of the bed. I hit my nightstand, and the lamp on top of it shattered on the ground, glass and small shards of wire lay next to my knees. My chest was heaving, covered dangerously in sweat, my hair stuck to my forehead as I tried to wipe the wetness from my eyebrow.

It took me minutes to realize that I was whispering her name over and over again, and to notice the tears streaming down my cheeks, dripping from my chin.

Just a dream, I told myself. But I had just watched someone I’ve never seen before kill her. I watched Katniss Everdeen take a throwing knife to the heart.

"She's alive. She has to be. Calm down, she's okay." The more I tried to calm myself down, the more I thought she was dead. Maybe she was. "Katniss." I whimpered, another river flowing from my eyes as I said her name.

I scooted away from the mess, managing to get my feet free from the sheets before my back made contact with the wall. I drew my knees to my chest and let my head fall into them, my arms covering my head like they did for the tornado drills at school. She’s alive. She’s probably sleeping soundly by now, I told myself. I wondered if she dreamed about me dying, then again she’d probably see it on the Games. Her death replayed over and over in my mind, I watched the knife spiral in slow motion and enter her chest, and then she fell over. Over and over again I watched the pain in her face, the anger and hate in the man’s eyes, the ferocious velocity of the blade. My eyes finally closed, and I hummed a soft melody Katniss had whistled to the mockingjays with me to calm myself.

I finished the song, and the silence made my ears ring. I missed District 12, the trees, the hard, packed dirt in the Seam, the sloppy soup Greasy Sae served and my family. My mother and I had never been very close since my father’s death in the mine, and now I was regretting not ever cherishing the relationship we could have had.

If I died in that arena, my family would probably end up dying from starvation. Katniss would try to keep them fed, bringing in game and berries, but eventually she’d not have enough to keep them alive. I imagined Katniss in the woods by herself, the trees as silent as ever as she hunted the game, never to smile again because she’d have nobody to talk to. I couldn’t bear the thought.

Suddenly I realized what my motive for this hell was, what I’m going to win for.

Katniss.


End file.
